The essence of ‘cool’ is
notoriously elusive, but as a general rule, it constitutes a sense
of insouciance, imperturbability and rejection of any association
to such a label. Essentially, anyone in possession of it simply
must not care. Enter River Phoenix – undoubtedly one of the coolest
public personas of the 20thCentury and a bona fide style icon, who
exemplified a new wave of ‘unstyled’ casualwear.

Despite tragically succumbing to
a drug overdose in 1993 aged just 23, Phoenix’s style endures, and
he continues to inform a certain ideal associated with
unpretentiousness and authenticity. His nonchalant approach to
style, rebellious spirit and premature death sees him oft heralded
a 90s James
Dean, but the legacy of the actor, activist and
musician goes far beyond this reductive comparison. As the
poster-boy for grunge, Phoenix didn’t just embody the zeitgeist of
his era, but spearheaded it, unintentionally for that matter. With
tousled, unkempt hair and a laidback uniform consisting primarily
of T-shirts and jeans, he was whatJames Truman, Editor-in-Chief of the now
defunctDetailsmagazine termed “un fashion”.He didn’t mean to infiltrate our
sartorial consciousness and we can only imagine his discomfort and
bemusement at the incessant examination of his wardrobe, but it is
precisely this attitude that garnered him so many devotees in the
first place.

Phoenix’s distinctive way of
dressing – that thrown-together, verging-on-scruffy look – was
developed fortuitously in his formative years, the result of
growing up in straitened circumstances. Born to hippy parents who
named him River Jude – River for Herman Hesse’sSiddharthaand Jude for ‘Hey Jude’ – Phoenix’s
upbringing was colourful to say the least. His family were members
of the controversial Children of God cult and lived in Venezuela as
missionaries, before escaping to Florida, where the Phoenix
siblings sang on street corners for money. As they struggled to
even afford food, they had little choice but to accept
hand-me-downs.“Rich kids
gave us their old clothes, which were the best clothes we had ever
had,” he told the New York Times. “We were these very
pure, naïve, poor children.”

Inevitably, such a childhood
would have a lasting influence on Phoenix’s wardrobe, and
even after being thrust into
the spotlight and becoming a household name for his role as the
brooding, chain-smoking adolescent Chris Chambers in the cult
filmStand by
Me, he stayed true to
his style identity. He rejected the overly refined, glitzy
aesthetic of the Hollywood glitterati in favour of an
effortlessness characterised by flannel check shirts, high-top
sneakers and pale blue jeans. He was indifferent to the
self-conscious world he had come to inhabit. Paul Newman, producer
ofDogfight, a film in which Phoenix commanded the screen
as a young marine, put it simply in an interview with The
Guardian: “He was very
attractive, but he didn't try to enhance his looks.”

No doubt his
anti-establishmentarianism and political-mindedness contributed to
his non-conformist style. Once quoted as saying he wouldn’t eat a
hamburger for $40,000, Phoenix was a strict vegan and vocal animal
rights activist. He was far more than a typical teen heartthrob –
he epitomised a shifting cultural attitude of open-mindedness and
political awareness. Wire-framed glasses, structured blazers and
shirts layered over tees gave him a sort of professorial chicness,
a look that today wouldn’t feel incongruous in a creative workplace
or trendy inner city bar.

This casual attire can only be
taken so far however, and when one is nominated for an Academy
Award, one must attend the ceremony looking the part. Phoenix did
just that in 1989, when he was nominated for Best Supporting Actor
inRunning On
Empty.To the delight of
fans and the style hungry, he showed up to the awards dressed
sharply in a tux, hand in hand with his equally dashing girlfriend
Martha Plimpton. Somehow, despite his uncharacteristically elegant
garb, he managed to retain an air of insouciance and that signature
cool. He proved that no matter what he wore, it was his command
over the clothes, rather than the clothes themselves, that afforded
him style.